


Kintsugi

by demowrites



Series: Occupational Hazards [3]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Heroes to Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 07:50:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19763773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demowrites/pseuds/demowrites
Summary: Something old, something new, something broken, something grew.





	Kintsugi

Mortum’s ability to multitask was second to none.

He juggled my open wound with expert hands, somehow not stained with my blood or wavering with discontent, all while managing to maintain our insufferable silence. Mouth set in a grim line, eyes narrowed but unblinking. I could feel the sting of his frustration.

His mind, on the other hand, was not silent. A string of curses, some in English, most were not, rotating through his consciousness, replaying what happened over and over. The miscalculation, the sound of the gunshot, the shock, the horror, the regret--

Over and over and over again.

None of this showed on his face, but I still watched him, letting his thoughts drift in and out as he went over what he could have done--branched into the moments that could’ve been. I don’t know if I could ever get used to his mind. It was like lightning, the thought struck and in a second I was looking at a thousand possibilities then narrowing it down to one. 

Maybe I had never met a genius before. Or maybe I had never cared. 

_I cared now._

The foundation of our relationship was shaky, built on the pillars of my denial-- wearing someone else’s face, but not being able to separate reality from my own fiction. I pushed and pulled and he was none the wiser- because how could anyone ever suspect such a thing- which is hard considering he usually is. Hands tangled, and promised kisses with nothing to keep them there left our relationship fragile and wanting. Coming close but never committing. 

I broke the spell. 

It crumbled slowly, the fissure of his mistrust and resentment running deep against the race of my self loathing. Was it possible to love if you had no soul? Was it possible to miss someone who you’ve never really known? 

In a moment I was tested, reacted, blood racing against a bullet in an alley I had avoided dozens of times. Careful calculations lost, instinct consuming my affection and manipulating it into action. 

But I was durable. I had scars, but I survived.

But he was angry. At me, at himself.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” the words soft, chased by a wince as he wound the bandage too tightly. A pause in work, derailing his thoughts and crumbling them into the strangeness of our reality. Fraught with cracks and uncertainty, there was something... else.

Our eyes met briefly, searching, acknowledging before a long withheld sigh escaped him, his forehead resting against mine in a momentary break for the search of our own peace of mind. 

“I don’t want anything to happen to _you_ , mon cherie.” 

The words were momentarily lost to us, absorbing the space with something new-- filling the holes that I left behind and that he failed to notice. Broken shards bonded in the silence, fingers interlocked and subdued. 

Maybe I couldn’t fix the past. My past, in particular, was a crumbled mess of trauma and running, but maybe the future could create something new from the destruction. Maybe the silence that swallowed our tension could be that-- _something new_. 

And even if it didn’t, it’s not like I ever had the possibility to hope before. 

With Mortum, at least I could hope.


End file.
